


Rescuing Mark

by dafna



Category: Peep Show
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dafna/pseuds/dafna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy is suspicious when Mark gets a new job. Set between Seasons 1 and 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescuing Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocketbookangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketbookangel/gifts).



> Thanks to Vae for the last-minute Britpick.

"Remember, if Sophie or anyone else at JLB calls, my aunt died and I'm at home, comforting my family."

Jeremy watched Mark do up his tie. This was such a mistake.

"Do you even have an aunt?"

"Yes, my dad's sister and she's horrible," Mark said. "If she really did die, I'd only go home to take out my mum to the pub to celebrate."

"And you're going where, exactly?" Jeremy wondered if he could convince Mark to stop at an off-license on his way back.

"Somewhere near Watford," Mark said. "I have the directions printed out, but it's a bit complicated."

Jeremy took another bite of toast. Should he bring this up? Probably not.

"So, you don't know what they do, you're not sure where they are, and they still haven't given you the proper name for the company?"

"Jez, this is how it works when you're being recruited," Mark said, pulling on his coat as he spoke. "I told you, they got hold of my video CV and were really impressed. Of course they're not going to spill the secrets over the phone."

"Uh huh."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I'll be back by five. Try not to burn the flat down."

And that was that, as Jeremy told Super Hans later. Mark came back from Watford or wherever, all flushed and excited, talking about corporate values and the management ladder and it was goodbye JLB and hello weird new company in Hertfordshire.

It seemed to be going well at first, Jeremy thought. Mark came home much later and left much earlier (a fact Jeremy discovered a few weeks in when he made it only as far as the outside of their flat and Mark tripped over him on his way out) but for people like Mark that just meant they were doing their bit, paving their section of the great capitalist highway to ... something. Jeremy didn't remember the whole speech.

And then Super Hans got them a gig as roadies-slash-warm-up act for a band called Hole in My Trainers and he spent the best part of the next two weeks in the Midlands, hauling equipment around in the pissing rain.

Still, the screaming in the night probably should have tipped him off sooner than it did.

"I took some bad shit last night," Jeremy said, walking into the kitchen one Saturday morning. He flipped through the cupboards. "Mark, have you seen the Sultana Bran?"

He looked over to where Mark was sitting hunched over at the kitchen table. There was bread on the table, but Mark didn't appear to have bothered to toast it, or even make tea. He was just clutching an empty mug with both hands.

"Mark?" Jeremy tried again.

"What? Oh, sorry, Jez." Mark released his death grip on the mug. "Was just thinking about work. I think we're out. There's Shreddies somewhere."

Jeremy grabbed the milk and sat down next to Mark. "How is all that going?"

Mark looked up. "Jeremy, you know I can't talk about that."

Did he know that? He didn't think he did, but it's not like Jeremy ever really paid attention when Mark started on about loans and forward financing and whatever. Hang on, was the new place a credit thingie also?

"What are you doing, exactly?" Jeremy asked. "I mean at the thing you can't talk about."

Mark turned red. "I can't tell you that, either. It's all very hush-hush. Top secret stuff."

"In Watford?"

"Have a good day, Jeremy."

Jeremy went back to bed. He needed a nap.

But a week later, he was definitely completely sober ("no, seriously, Hans, I don't know what's in this shit, but I need to take a break and cop some proper Z's") when the screaming woke him up.

He lay in bed, listening. Right, that definitely wasn't him screaming, was it? He tried holding his breath, but the screaming continued. OK, so no. That meant it was either Mark, or someone he brought home. Jeremy weighed the relative likelihood of Mark screaming vs Mark bringing home a girl who did drugs. Yeah, he should go check on him.

He stumbled across to Mark's room. "Mark, some of us are trying to sleep."

Jeremy pushed open the door as he spoke, not sure what to expect. Mark was twisting around in bed, screaming out gibberish and clearly in distress.

"Mark, oh God." Jeremy was actually worried. He sat down on the bed and touched Mark's arm. "It's time to wake up, dude."

"Jeremy?" Mark lifted his head and blinked up at him. "Why are you sitting on my bed naked?"

Jeremy looked down. Huh. He hadn't realized he wasn't wearing pants.

"You were screaming," Jeremy said. "Like, a lot."

"Oh," said Mark, still blinking. "Sorry, I guess? I know I've been worrying about work a lot."

"Seriously, dude, what is going on?"

"Nothing!" Mark said. "I mean, nothing. I'm just under a lot of stress at the moment. Sorry to disturb."

Jeremy sighed and stood up, facing Mark with his hands against his waist. Mark cringed and shut his eyes.

"You know I'm here for you, dude. I'm just saying."

 "Thanks," Mark said, his eyes still closed. "That's great. Please get out of my bedroom now."

Jeremy obeyed, but decided he needed a plan. What time was it? Oh, just past three. Still plenty early to call Super Hans.

"Maybe it's one of them pharmaceutical cartels," Super Hans said the next day, lifting his lighter up to the crack pipe. "Working on some big secret pill that will let us cure cancer by fucking sheep or something."

"I think it's worse than that," said Jeremy, tapping his cigarette. "I really do. I think we need to mount a rescue operation."

"OK, but I don't have the van until next week."

Tracking Mark down turned out be difficult, even with the van. To begin with, they had to stay up all night in order to be ready to go that early in the morning. And they couldn't exactly drive right alongside the train all the way across London, as they discovered in their third attempt, which was the first one they managed to be awake for.

That meant Jeremy had to get on the train with Mark and try to go unnoticed. This proved easier than he expected, as apparently a lot of people actually got up to go to work this early and the train was far more crowded than he was used to.

So crowded that he missed seeing where Mark was getting off for the connection, but by the fifth time he was pretty sure he had it, and right, that was definitely Mark at the other end of the car.

He was definitely still looking not quite himself. A little pale, a little shaky, Jeremy thought. What were these bastards having him do? He'd told Mark that putting his video CV about was a bad idea. Mark should really listen to him more.

Jeremy followed Mark off the train and lingered as he bought a coffee just outside the station. Right, so this was Watford? He looked around and didn't see anything particularly suspicious, but you never knew. Super Hans said Sony controlled the music industry from an office park in Uxbridge.

Mark set off again and Jeremy followed on foot, trying not to yawn too loudly. Rescuing people took a lot of stamina, apparently.

The building Mark eventually entered seemed nondescript enough, but Jeremy knew something was up when Mark looked hastily up and down the street before entering.

He waited a few minutes and then crossed the street to the entrance. He probably should have thought further ahead, he realized. How was he going to pass security?

Except that there didn't seem to be any, at least not on the ground floor. Jeremy groaned as he realized he had no idea where Mark worked, which meant he was going to have walk around and look everywhere. Right, Mark was definitely buying him a coffee after this.

He decided to start at the top, on the theory that if he were running a secretive multinational something, he'd pay for a better view. This seemed to work, as it was only after a few doors that he discovered Mark.

His flat mate was sitting in a small office across from a long room filled with people wedged into cubicles. They were clearly doing evil because they were ... on the phone? Huh, Jeremy thought.

He edged past the rows of corporate drones and stepped into Mark's office.

"Jeremy!" Mark looked wildly around. His face started turning red.

"It's OK, Mark. It will all be OK," Jeremy said. He held up his hands and made a soothing notion.

"You can't be here, what are you -- how did you -- Oh my god, did something happen to the flat?"

Mark's face was now completely red and he was beginning to sweat.

"Mark, I'm here to get you out," Jeremy said patiently. "You can tell me the truth. Are they making you take pills? Is it child labour? Do we need to go to the U.N.?"

Mark sighed and looked irritated. Jeremy had pictured him looking far more grateful by this point.

"No, Jeremy," he said. "It's not child labour."

He stood up and went to the door of his office, pointing to the rows of cubicles.

"Didn't you see all these people on the phone?" Mark asked. "It's neither glamorous nor secretive really, I was just too ashamed to say."

Jeremy looked at him. He was starting to think he'd missed something.

"It's a call centre, Jeremy," Mark said. "A bloody call centre. That's what I left my brilliant career at JLB for."

"So, not evil?" Jeremy asked.

"I don't know, does having to make your numbers every hour of every day so that some corporate executive in New York gets a bonus sound evil?"

Jeremy thought any job that expected you to show up every day, even in the summer, sounded pretty evil.

"It's just, the mind-numbing tedium of it all," Mark said. "I can't bring myself to stay awake most days unless I drink about ten coffees. My blood pressure has shot up and I can't get to sleep unless I take one of your sleeping pills."

"My pills?"

"Yes, the ones you got last summer when ... " Mark stopped and looked at Jeremy. "Oh Christ. You put something else in that bottle, didn't you?"

OK, Jeremy thought, at least that explained the screaming. He shook his head. Back to the original plan.

"Mark," he said firmly. "I've come to rescue you. It's time for you to leave this terrible place and come home. I'm sure JLB will hire you back, no problem."

Mark slumped against the wall. "Do you really think so?"

"Totally," Jeremy said. "In fact, Sophie was just calling to ask about you." Or she would do, he thought, after he called her and told her Mark had secretly been dying of cancer and was now miraculously cured.

"Sophie?" Mark stood up straight. "My god, what have I done?"

"I know, Mark, I know." Jeremy took hold of his friend and walked him out of the office.

"It will all be over soon. Let's go home."


End file.
